Papa, Will You Marry Me?
by Wonka's Mistake44
Summary: Matthew knows nobody more perfect than Papa, so he decides to marry him. And Francis always loves to play games with his son. A small drabble about Matthew's happier memory towards times with Papa Francis.


**Author's Note: This is the result of three days at my friend's house and four days of constant partying. I technically wrote this at the age of thirteen.**

_**Summary: Young Matthew knows nobody more amazing than his Papa, so he decides to marry the Frenchman. Francis is always eager for a game with his son. A mere cheerful story between father and son playing a round of Wedding.**_

* * *

"Papa, will you marry me?"

The tiny voice rang up at him as he was just finishing with the laundry line, and Francis turned to address the source that had popped his little daydream. He could always consider what sort of chowder their supper could consist of. "Hmm?" the Frenchman hummed, sleepy eyes soon drawn towards the child. Francis' mouth lifted in a smile that expressed his apparent delight. "Bonjour, mon cher! I did not expect you to wake so early from your nap~ What is it that you had said firstly?" He caught the edge of a white sheet before it could tumble to the ground, fixing it while he awaited the other's response.

Standing just hardly at his father figure's chest, little Matthew felt a flush of humiliation take over his features. What was he thinking? A little pink tongue darted out for moisturing his lips before Matthew's ghostly voice could against pipe up his inquiry.

"I said.. Papa. Will you marry me?"

This time, Francis paused in his activity for another reason altogether. Rather than laughing as his very anxious child expected him to do, the Frenchman broke into an amused grin and began to sway. Matthew faintly recalled his father doing this whenever that _other _nation, the one with the large eyebrows, whispered something into his ear.

"Matthieu~ Darling, are you proposing to me?"

A blush of deeper red stained at Matthew's sensitive face. He down at himself, began to awkwardly fiddle with the soft blue ribbon that Francis had purchased for him just the month before. The young blond had done his very best to keep it neat just as the rest of him. "I- I'm sorry, Papa. You don't ha-"

Francis swirled around. "Because I think that I do know very well that my Matthieu would not ever be so tactless so as to propose without first presenting the ring to his beloved!" The Frenchman's eye held a sparkle suggesting his playful nature; he always did enjoy a nice game of roles with Matthew. However, his son was growing far too old for such shenanigans.. Oh, but he was so adorable. Francis thought that indulging Matthew as a playmate only inspired creativity.

Matthew, on the other hand, felt a surge of excitement. "I-! I don't have any rings, Papa... I'm sorry." He had been so excited for a moment, and his face was always so expressive with how he was feeling. Right now he appeared quite nearly devastated with the status between his father and himself. However, the chuckling from a familiar voice caught his attention.

"Matthieu, you do appear so solemn! There is no need to concern, mon cher. I have the very rings that we require for such an event as marriage~," Francis chirped. His hands clasped together in an expession of glee. "Simply give me time to finish your bed linen and then dress myself, oui?"

Never had he felt such a rush of love towards the Frenchman.

* * *

He really didn't care for wearing his vest all of the time. Matthew thought that the piece of clothing was far too tight for him, though his father assured that it was a perfect fit intended to hug his body in such a manner. And he also held opposition towards the top he wore beneath it; the ruffles itched at his neck, and the lacy bits made him wanted to scratch them off. However, the younger blond knew full well that these were his best pieces of clothing from the entirety of his wardrobe; Francis himself had commented about the absence of them just two weeks before.

The Frenchman was waiting in the garden, speaking of. Matthew swallowed down the heavy bundle of nerves that decided to nestle directly in his throat. He couldn't believe that it was time already.. It felt so soon! But he really loved his papa; the elder blond was very good at cooking, bandaging any cuts, and patching up the accidental snags a clumsy adolescent boy as him acquired on the near daily. There was nobody near as perfect as Francis.

Steeling himself into something more externally solid, Matthew marched out through his home and directly towards the gardens. He saw Francis just waiting for him, the Frenchman adorned in something rather beautifully simple. A loose white blouse and black trousers. But it looked really nice on him, just as nice as Matthew supposed anything looked on his Papa. Francis was handsome.

Francis was also staring at his approaching son with something akin to parental fondness lighting up his expression. Matthew was just so precious with these little games. Last week they had been scouting for fruit, acting as though those traveling men with their scruffy beards and knowledge towards which fruits were safe for consumption at just the texture. And now they were playing marriage, a game that had Francis thinking of when his precious Matthew really would be prepared for such an event to occur.

"My~ Somebody certainly has dressed up just for me." Francis reached out to brush Matthew's golden tresses from his face. "Do not hide behind a curtain, mon beau~ You do take after moi. Naturally just so gorgeous."

The smaller blond felt his confidence leave him.

* * *

"I, Francis Maurice Bonnefoy, do take you, Matthieu, as my wedded spouse for now and forever~ And may I care for you for the entirety of our marriage and beyond. I will love with all that I have to honor." Francis' suave tone managed to ease the younger blond's nerves, though his words caused the fire in his body to liquidate and pour through his veins. The bouquet of the flowers that the Frenchman had presented him were beginning to become crushed in Matthew's tight grasp. And the ring that slid onto one of his too-small fingers sealed the deal in a way that even his words hadn't touched.

"... I take Papa as my, um, husband. Because he's really nice and really handsome, and he'll love me forever. And I love my Papa, too." Matthew's words, while not quite as eloquent, caused Francis to beam the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen. The child fumbled Francis' ring onto the owner's finger as well, his movements clumsy but very determined to work. "I love you, Papa."

Francis chimed laughter. "And I love you, Matthieu. Je t'aime~." A harmless peck for the child's troubles, one that could hardly be considered a kiss rather than a brush of lips. But Matthew practically fainted no matter what it was. "Je t'aime aussi.. Papa."

* * *

Everything had been beautiful that day. His Papa had even taught him how to dance a bit, and then they had his favorite for supper in celebration of marriage. Matthew had never felt more loved than when Francis had embraced him before bed that night and called him his special prince. Their rings still glinted in the moonlight even while the Frenchman retired to rest in his own bed.

But now Matthew never felt more miserable. Arthur had taken him away, which had been horrible enough, but he wouldn't even allow Papa to visit. And the other boy who lived with Arthur always took away the attention anyway, so Matthew hardly ever received enough time to play even if he wanted to.

With Papa, he had never felt unloved... There were kisses, embraces, affectionate pats to the shoulder. With Arthur, he felt only cold and alone.

Matthew stared at the ring he had kept tucked away, watched it sit around his thin finger as though just the sight would bring back the memory into reality. His finger was beginning to thicken somewhat into fitting the simple band, though it was still a long way off. And all he could think about was his husband, the man who was four worlds away on even a boat across those torrid waters.

Matthew thought about how little their honeymoon stage had lasted before Francis just didn't have the strength to protect him from Arthur's greedy clutches.

'Papa.. I hope you remember me, too. Je t'aime.' On the windowsill was a piece of parchment sealed within a bottle. Just as every other day since his arrival in this dreary land, Matthew planned to escape down towards the harbor to leave his wish within the mercy of the sea.

* * *

"I wish I could be with Papa again. Please let me go home.'

Home is where the heart is. Home is four worlds away even on boat across those torrid waters.

**Fin**

**For some reason, this took a darker turn towards the end.. Nonetheless, read and review? ;u; I was only four minutes beyond my deadline this time-**


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